


Floored

by Madame_Klancealot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternative Universe - FBI, Ballroom Dancing, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover, Undercover Missions, cocky keith, cocky lance, keith is wearing a sexy red dress, lance is so speechless his bi panic kicks in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 02:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Klancealot/pseuds/Madame_Klancealot
Summary: Loosely based on a fanart drawn by scrubster_ on IG - You know the one (https://www.instagram.com/p/BzI32KRgTRU/)Keith and Lance are undercover spies on a mission to track down and capture the infamous drug lord, Lotor. Lance has eyes locked on their target out on the dance floor and is in need of a dance partner. He finds a beautiful raven haired woman in red, and drops his jaw to the floor.





	Floored

Although luminous and beautiful, all the heat from the chandeliers in the ballroom where the charity event was held tonight, they must have decided that Lance was the perfect target to ruin and melt his gel-slicked hairdo. 

He ran his fingers through his soft brunet mane a couple times, thinking twice would have to do and that his hair was hopefully still slicked back.Also still being immensely warm by the lights, he loosened a button from his crisp white shirt and grabbed a bubbling champagne flute from one of the waitresses passing by.

He tapped a single finger on his black mask, the gesture one could interpret either as a fleeting greeting if a pair of eyes caught him, or, he was making sure the mask was tight enough on him to keep his tan face covered and hidden for tonight's mission. 

Another tap. This time discreetly, hardly noticed, his finger hit the ear piece on. "Blue Lion in place. I repeat, Blue Lion in place. Check him out standing by the tables looking all swab." Lance cooed cooly through the ear piece. 

In return, all he heard was a dark, annoyed groan. "You promised not to call yourself that. Just stick to your name, no one here knows who you are, daddy long legs." His partner, Keith, mocked him. 

Lance scoped the perimeter, on the lookout for his partner and their target, a mafioso boss by the name Lotor who led the infamous drug dealing Kova gang. 

Within a sea of stinking rich men and women, all wearing masks, since it's a masquerade after all, finding Keith could be as difficult as maintaining their eyes on the target. 

"Oh, Daddy. I like that one, Red. Let's go with that instead. Daddy has landed, but target is not locked. Did you get in the ballroom okay?" Lance leered the dance floor, still on the hunt for his partner. 

Keith Kogane was their best agent, which Lance wasn't all that jealous about, just enough to turn every field mission into a little competition. They got his blood running and his adrenaline spiked. Even if the current ongoing score was 10 to none. Just wait, he'll turn the score around, all it took was a little more motivation and little less Kogane in the field. 

"I got in alright, McClain. Nothing a little persuasion can get ya. A wink here, a little tap on the shoulder there." Lance could hear the cockiness from Keith's voice bleed through his ear. And he thought _ he _was the smoothtalker out of the two. 

"Damn. I wouldn't have mind seeing that. You never smooth talk on missions with me." 

"Because I never get a chance to even open my mouth while yours is running non-stop. Damn, I'm glad we had to get in here separately.." Keith boistered with animosity in his voice. 

Lance scoffed, not his fault he was good at getting them out of pickles with his quick wits and charms. All he needed Keith for was for backup, in case his persuasion ever failed, which was never. 

Long, white flowy hair caught in his peripheral vision. "Keith, I have eyes on the prize. I repeat the Loreal model is in target lock." 

Keith rolled his eyes, playing with his fluffy white feather attached to his golden mask, but then a low giggle fell out of his throat. "Loreal model, that was actually a good one. Where do you have eyes on him?" 

"Dancefloor. I'm diving in. I'll find a dance partner and waltz on over to him. Watch my six, Blue Lion out." Lance smirked, running his fingers through his soft locks once more before he approaches a black haired beauty wearing a satin, floor length red dress.

"Now for a lucky lady to keep daddy company, bingo." Lance said in success. Keith could hear his stupid finger guns go off at her. 

"Poor girl." Keith grumbled, eyes opened wide when he finally spotted his partner's whereabouts. 

Lance's eyes sparked at the sight of the woman. Her golden mask was hiding her features, but Lance could make out a pair of mystical indigo colored eyes, eyes that he wouldn't have mind writing a poem about. And that dress. It was enough to smack you into oblivion and back again. Hugging her in all the right place. Falling softly down her thin frame. _ Damn, _Lance thought. He was definitely asking for her number later. 

But, perhaps a dance might suffice? 

Sparkles of indigo hooked into ocean blue. Standing face to face, they both smirked at each other. "Hi." Lance rolled out smoothly, "The Name's Lance and you're not gonna regret a dance with me tonight." He held his hand out to the woman in red, asking for a dance. 

The women's smirk stayed glued to her fair face, lips as red as a bloodstone ruby; daunting, those lips. Lance wanted to know if they tasted as expensive as they looked. 

He quirked his thin brow. Pushing for that dance, and quickly too before their target found a new runway to strut on. "Well aren't you as arrogant as they get them…" The women retorted, voice familiar almost. 

Lance traced a crescent scar along her right cheek.

"Keith!?" Lance silently screeched, jaw dropping to the floor. 

* * *

Keith deepened his smirk by Lance’s startled jaw dropping, then it faltered. Guess there was no time explaining his feminine assemble. "Shitballs, he's getting away!" 

"Who is?" Still surprised that Keith was the gorgeous woman in red, Lance yelped as his partner gripped his extended hand, landing his other hand on Lance's hip, dancing their way towards the mafia boss. 

Beats introducing a hip-worthy tango song echoes the ballroom. Soft-tuned melodies sounded out at first, picking up into an energetic tune causing Lance’s hips to sway all on their own, punching side to side perfectly in sync with Keith’s skilled dancing. 

Still in their field of vision, Lance curls his lips, enjoying the sight before him, regardless of that golden mask covering half of his partner’s face. Keith narrowed those alluring indigo eyes, hidden behind fabricated gold. “What?” 

As the beat picks up its infectious rhythm, Spanish lyrics gliding sexily into their ears, Lance chances a daring twist of their mingled bodies, cutting to one side, hands gripping tighter. He grasps Keith’s body even closer to his own. 

Air sucks into Keith’s lungs sharply at the sudden turn, catching a wave of sparkled blue, “I have to admit, Red-” Keith hears his partner whisper, voice all liquidated, “that red dress on you has me floored.” Keith caught his partner’s peachy lips gently being grazed by starving white teeth. 

Swallowing suddenly became an impossible mechanic for Keith, staring closely at his partner, he would need a never ending bottle to scoop up all the lust burning in the heart of that ocean. An ocean he always tried to avoid dipping into, afraid he might end up gasping desperately for life support if he ever fell in. 

He needed to regain Lance’s focus on the task. “McClain, dip me!” 

“What?” Lance blinked, dumbfounded. 

“Dip me, daddy…” Keith said low and sexy. 

That got his attention. 

The song shifted, into something more upbeat and poppy. It woke the sea of rich dancers, making it harder to track their target. Lance’s knee pushed smoothly forward, dipping Keith’s body quickly down over it by his convincing command, colliding his torso atop the body that red dress hugged. Warm breath prickled Keith’s face, causing gooseflesh to replace his soft skin. 

Heat scorched Keith’s cheeks when he noticed how close his partner’s lips came to his own. “Is that a flushed Keith I see here? All nice and pinched, those fair, fair cheeks. Me likey.” Lance stuck his tongue out, biting hard into it. 

Keith rolled his eyes, trying with all his might to avoid any eye contact. “You flatter yourself too much. It’s only the blush, McClain, now focus on the mission.” He swung his dipped his head back, snatching an upside down view of a mafioso enjoying his own meal of a female dance partner. 

Hopefully, Lance won’t notice the rapid beat of Keith’s heart, threatening to jump out of his chest and set itself on fire if he came any closer now. _ God _ , Keith thought sourly. Lance McClain, _ dingus of the century _ , made _ his _ heart beat like that. He hoped the blood rushing to his brain caused it to implode. 

“Don’t worry, the target won’t strut away any time soon. We can get him during the next song, I wanna enjoy this dance while I have you in my arms, Red.” Lance cooed cooly, impulsively travelling his warm free hand up Keith’s exposed thigh, revealed by a deviating slit on his red dress. 

The whole goddamn fire squad might as well put Keith out as Lance rode his hand up further, further..._ there _. 

Blood still rushing to his head, Keith’s eyes widened in shock at where Lance finally landed his hand, and there was definitely some obvious _ cupping _ going on now. No, that asshole was actually taking the chance to _ squeeze. _

In the corner of Keith’s eye, Lotor had vanished. “Fuck, Lance, he’s got away!” 

Keith brassly kicked his legs in the air, one foot after the other, breezing a backflip as his back used Lance’s knee for support. One red heel, then the other glittered under the luxurious lighting, landing effortlessly on them, Keith’s hand still connected to Lance’s, tiny golden mask strung tightly across his fair face, and strutting at arm’s length from his partner. 

A burst of applause boomed the ballroom, causing Keith to lose his own focus of his whereabouts. _ Oof _, he suddenly found himself twirled into the crook of Lance’s shoulder, snagging an endless blue sea, soft, full lips cracking a cocky grin. 

Keith clenched his jaw, biting back any more insults at the Cuban moron. It was mostly due to him being as mornonic as his partner, drawing unwanted attention to them with his unexpected acrobatic performance a second ago. “We need to find Lotor, McClain, now wipe that fucking grin off your face!” 

“Relax.” Lance assured as he swung Keith out of his hold, then pulling him back in, their bodies melding together to the rhythm of the music. His tan hands now grasping Keith’s snug hips, forcing him to move them side to side, slowly, sensually. Keith felt ruined by the touch. “He’s standing by the auction booth with his own prize, and might I comment on his good taste in snacks. Stunning.” Lance’s hungered voice faltered when he stared heavenly at the white-haired beauty being eaten alive by the drug lord. 

Two fingers harshly pressed into Lance’s jaw, craning his dick-minded head to Keith. _ Whoa, _ those indigo eyes were spitting fireballs at him now, “Is that jea-” Lance released a humored breath, “Man...you look so scrumptious, red. Ever thought about going on a dat-” 

Keith could read those goo-goo eyes like an open book.

“I don’t date other agents. Specifically obnoxiously tall morons named Lance McClain…” Keith cut him off, landing those fireballs and going back to their mission, dancing normally. 

  
  


* * *

_ You know what? _

Fuck this shit. Lance was no quitter. His legs kicked ruthlessly into overdrive, picking up speed when a new song glided smoothly through the walls of the ballroom. 

“Lance!” 

He didn’t care that Keith blew up on him, he was gonna land a date tonight whether the know-it-all liked it or not. 

Woozy by the twirls and swings, Lance pushed Keith down into a new low dip, his exposed, sexy leg shooting up into the air. “How ‘bout this, red? I catch the bad guy, and you agree to go on one date with me.” It was his best strategy plan, maybe the best one he came up with ever since he started this pulsating job. 

A wicked sneer covered Keith’s ruby red lips. “_ I _ catch him, and you kiss that date goodbye. Got it, McClain?” 

Lance’s grabby hand found its rightful place back on Keith’s thigh, tickling the skin beneath his knee. “That’s all the motivation I need, red. By the way, what’s that brand of that lipstick you wearing?” He chanced a hot searing kiss under Keith’s ear, a sucked inhale from his partner sounding loud enough for the whole room to hear. 

“Wh-why’s that of a-any i-import...ance?” Keith keened, he couldn’t contain the shakiness in his voice. He knew Lance was daring, but this was overstepping it. Still, he had no idea how much he would enjoy this too. 

Warmth from those peachy lips sent ripples of shivers down Keith’s spine as Lance dragged his lips slowly along his cheek, his upturned nose poking the sharp point of his scar. Keith could feel that cheeky smile blooming on his ridiculous face. “I need to know how well it’s gonna last once I’m through with you on our date...If you catch my drift.” 

Damn those liquidated pipes, Keith thought, narrowing his eyes at his flirtatious partner. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from those plumped, peachy lips. “Charming.” He attacked. 

“I know.” Lance bit back. Literally, nibbling Keith’s cheek. 

During that exchangement of hot and heavy breaths, Lance felt up Keith’s inner thigh, a look of surprise washing over his tan face. His fingertips felt a strap, and, is that a holster containing a…”You brought a knife, Keith...and to a gunfight of all things…” Lance tsked, then his smile turned diabolical, toothy, thin brown brows knitting in pleasure. Evil coated that sexy, tan face. 

“What?” Keith dragged his body back up to meet Lance’s hardened face, his hands resting tensely on Lance’s shoulders. 

“I got him.” Lance crooned through clenched teeth, “Caught.” He then confidently rolled off his tongue. 

“You’re joking?” Keith craned his neck at Lotor for a split second, then back at Lance. 

Lance winked. “I never joke when there’s a hot date on the line.” His lips unfurling to that signature smirk. 

“God, I can feel that smirk from a mile away.” Keith chuckled breathlessly. 

“Face it. You love it.” Lance’s face was all kinds of exhilarated. “Remember to wear that dress on our date, and I advise to buy a new pair of fishnet stockings, I sort of ripped the ones you have on now. Got a bit frisky there..” 

Keith made an annoyed sigh. 

“Tomorrow. 9PM. You know where to find me.” Lance released Keith, swinging him in tact with the music into their neighboring dancing couple, his stroding glide turning into a sprint, gun already nestled in his hands. 

His tan face beamed when it stared at Keith for a jiffy, “You look cute wearing that pout, red! FBI!! Lotor Von Gal, you’re under arrest for drug dealing and possession...oh hell no!” Lance tackled the drug-lord, causing a loud commotion in the hall. But, at all end’s, the Cuban moron caught the bad guy. 

While cuffing the long-haired mafioso, Lance made a triumphant wink at his partner, shooting off finger guns at every one in the room. He shot one directly at Lotor, looking all kinds of cocky smuginess. “Your modeling days are over. Maybe it’s Maybelline after all.” He kid, laughing up a storm, thinking he was hilarious. No one else agreed. 

Keith dragged a hand slowly down his whole face, noises of pure annoyment punching out of his throat. “It’s Loreal Lance! Because you’re worth it!” 

“Aww, thanks, red. You too!” 

Aggravation roiled in Keith’s bloodstream, his hand suddenly gripped tightly into a fist and was suddenly found punching Lotor’s face. He shook his hand while click-clacking away from the idiot on his high heels before he ruined _ his _ face too. Which would be ill-advised since the jack-hole did catch the bad guy. 

  


_ Meaning... _

  


Blue eyes dropped to the clean, fancy floor. Lance couldn’t sweep them away from the red dress draping along the marbled tiles, slowly darting his gaze up along the slope of the body that red dress hugged perfectly. 

He sighed blissfully. “See that red dress, Maybelline? Now picture it draped all over _ my _ hot body while you’re rotting in jail.” 

“It’s Loreal, Kumquat! Listen to your black haired partner. And don’t worry, this won’t be the last you’ll see of me.” Lotor crooned crazily, with a cackling evil laugh. 

Lance didn’t catch any of that, brain buzzing with excitement, chest bursting with lust and fingertips itching for the black haired man walking away, modelling that wicked red dress. 

* * *

Two martinis were placed down neatly in front of Lance. He took one of the glasses, saluting a cheers to the barman before downing all of its contents, a nice anticipated burn tickling his throat. 

Perhaps it was the the burn of the alcohol or his awaited companion for the night, but the bounce in his leg was rocking up the whole hotel bar. 

He smiled at the barman, bunching his cheeks up to his blue eyes, loosening the tight noose of his black tie around his neck. Why was he so damn nervous? Going through all that trouble (not) to catch the infamous drug lord so that he could score this date tonight was supposed to feed him all the confidence in the world, not turn him into a dilapidated nervous wreck. 

Fanning himself with the napkin resting next to him, he felt his throat closing up, forehead turning into a rushing waterfall, and a heart beating so fast he might as well call the ambulance if it decides to puncture out of his chest any second now. 

A low sigh rumbled out of his mouth. 

At least he thought he looked nice. He went for a dark blue, silk shirt, complementing his light blue, ocean eyes, creating a stark contrast. _Riveting, people would say. _Snugly worn black slacks and two spritz of his favorite cologne only found in the deepest corner of the most luminous stores on the end streets of Roma. 

Maybe Keith didn’t think Lance was serious about the date. Tapping his fingers along the bar, staring helplessly at the barman, eyes asking for another martini to drown his upcoming sorrows if he got stood up, Lance slid his eyes towards the entrance. And his lungs lost their function. 

In the doorway, Lance caught the sight of the most gorgeous person known to man. All the famous artists throughout history would be envious that they weren’t alive to witness the sight before him. He made a hard swallow. Oh, if only he was an artist, or a sculptor. He would use the finest of tools and use years on end to perfect the image of the person now walking towards him, slowly, those daunting red lips testing him, teasing him as they twisted sexily up to the side. 

Suddenly, all the confidence Lance thought had flown out the window rushed back into him, a wave of bravery straightening his back, planting that signature smirk on his golden face. Chest blown up, clammy hands wiped clean and that sheen of sweat vanished by the sizzling fire of that red dress he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Lance was ready, he was as giddy as the fools lining up for a taste of that perfect sculpture now taking a seat next to him. 

He caught piercing indigo eyes catch him in their hook. "Holy shit. We're actually going through with this." Lance slid a martini soundlessly over to his date. 

Jumping up and down with want, Lance felt like a pogo stick with his eyes, sizing up that gorgeous man sitting carelessly in front of him, attitude in check, on leg over the other, revealing that exposed fishnet covered thigh. 

Blood almost coated Lance’s lips as he grazed his teeth over them, hoping Keith was just as ready for this date as he was. 

Keith made a face. "I hear one retort about me in this dress. I will stomp your balls with my heel and walk out that door." 

"Feisty and sexy. You look Nice." Lance stifled all the retorts had listed in his brain. No chance in hell was he letting his partner get away, not looking like that. He wanted him all to himself. No one was gonna feast their eyes on something this out of their league. We’re talking ballpark everyone. 

"Damn straight I look nice. Consider yourself lucky I agreed to this. And it's just once. Since you won the bet." Keith crossed his arms, grabbing the martini and taking a sip. When he placed the glass down on the bar, Lance noticed there wasn’t any mark made by the red lipstick swabbed perfectly on those lips he was dying to taste. _ Quality. _

Well then, he’ll take that as a challenge to see if he could smear some of that red across their faces later...and some on his body, he hoped. 

"We'll see if I can change your mind for a second date at the end of the night I bet you'll be begging for more of my...dashingly wicked skills later." Lance waggled his brows, earning a low chuckle from the raven haired beauty he could call partner, a damn good one too if he had to be honest. 

Keith made a scoff at Lance’s choice of words, running a hand along his arm, almost like he was cold. Or nervous. Perfect. Perfect prey, Lance thought. 

"What? You’re scoffing at me...I’m serious, red" Lance spreads his peachy lips into a provocative, lust filled smile, dancing his fingers along the revealed thigh through the dress slit. "Scared I'm going to win this round?" He ventured, hoping this remark would create a heated challenge between the pair. 

"It is 11 to none. Surely I have the upper hand here." Keith looked triumphant, and Lance took a mental photo of the sight. Serene, still so devastatingly perfect. Hells, he had it so bad for this guy. 

Fog must have taken space in the room as Lance can sense the heat going a blaze in the space between him and his date. He needed him in his arms. Right this instant. All thrusters are a go. 

Keith’s revealed fishnetted thigh temps Lance, and he starts dragging a hot fingertip from the top of Keith’s thigh, going lower and lower, his face growing more and more erotic the hotter the skin belonging to Keith becomes. 

"Wanna find out how much you're willing to win this round?" Lance winks a splash of ocean waves towards Keith, his dumb smile infecting the raven haired man to smile equally skittish. 

Lance’s hand slides to his back pocket, holding up a key card to a hotel room. “You say yes, you win.” 

"And if I say no." The word wasn’t even on the table when Lance took a look at the coveting fire blazing in those eyes. Keith wanted him. _ Bad. _

He leaned his face in close to Keith’s, taking up all the vicinity in the man’s space. Skin throttled with heat beneath Lance’s grasp as he goes on to squeeze Keith’s thigh even harder, a small whimper leaving his throat, like sweet heavenly music to Lance’s ears. 

He dialed his voice to a low, cautious whisper. "You won't say no. Cause then you'll lose, and I know how much you hate losing. How much you achingly despise it. And you don't wanna break that streak of yours.." 

Warm breath seared the skin behind Keith’s ear, traveling its yearning path down to his chest, his abdomen. "Or do ya, Red?" The fire ignited, blazing between his thighs. 

_ Oh.. _

Affably hot, and coated in sweat, their bodies crashed hard against the hotel room's wall. Keith's red lipstick turned out to be of the cheaper brands, now smeared all over Lance's hot sweaty face. Or, Lance’s lips were just too drenching wet with lust that the lipstick couldn’t handle them at all. Keith had melted into him, so why not the quality of the brand? 

Their lips became one, slotted together like a perfect piece of a puzzle, moans of mutual pining finally being released out into the open. 

Lance chuckled in Keith’s mouth, swallowing a starved moan running out of that scrumptious neck. "Looks like I finally scored a point...what is it, 11 to 1 now. Mine has to be worth at least worth 50. I mean, you’ve felt what these lips can do now.” 

Keith was too busy unbuttoning Lance's shirt to correct him. "Can you keep your mouth shut for at least 20 minutes, dipshit." Shirt finally off, and flown somewhere, no one cared. He pressed lips quickly onto Lance's naked chest, the taste of his sweat-slicked skin and fruity deliciousness of coconut body butter causing an aneurysm. 

It was so hot in the room, Lance needed to turn up the temperature a few more notches, but Keith was doing all the work right now. So all he needed to focus on was not to pass out, cause it was just so damn hot. 

Swiping a hand across his forehead, landing a hard kiss on Lance’s swollen, peachy lips, Keith took his hand and started fumbling them to unzip the red dress till he suddenly felt a large hand stopping him. 

"No. Keep the dress on. The rest goes off." Lance sounded desperate, intoxicated by the mere sight of Keith’s dress. 

The dress stayed on. The rest was off. Not that Keith had much more on him, but what was left to fling around in the room had finally been flung. 

Keith caught Lance’s mouth with his, tasting the martini they had earlier. Fleeting aromas of sandalwood and sea breezes intermingled with his senses and he fell on the bed with a heavy body draped over him, grabby hands already riding their path along his hugged body. 

The room was spinning. The world spiraling. The universe on its edge. 

Lance draped over him. Smiling ever so blissfully at Keith before he dipped down to kiss him sensually. 

Even though Lance might have won this round. Keith knew he would always be the one who had the charming boy floored, looking forward to what other demands he’ll follow while wearing this dress. 

And one thing was for sure. Lance did score a second date.


End file.
